The Meaning of Pie
by Alyson
Summary: Vaughn's inner voice gets a say companion to Time Enough and Not, but can stand alone vignette.


The Meaning of Pie  
  
By Alyson (alysfaire@aol.com)  
  
Spoilers: General show spoilers, nothing specific really.  
  
Pairing: Syd/Vaughn  
  
Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine, they belong to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot, ABC, Jennifer Garner and Michael Vartan, among others. Just borrowing them for a quick spin. No harm intended.  
  
Notes: This takes place about 3 years in the future. It's a companion to "Time Enough and Not", but can stand alone. *Many* thanks to the generous feedback on that story! I had only intended to write the one, so requests for more took me off guard a bit. This one's not a continuation, but a listen to Vaughn's inner voice at the same meeting (so, more rambling ahead, you've been warned). (And to anyone from Omaha, nothing personal intended, the name just jumped at me.)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please! Be it constructive or just general ("Didn't totally suck"), I'd love to hear what you thought and any ways you thought it could have been made better.  
  
Distribution: Can't imagine anyone would want it, but if you do, please ask first.  
  
  
  
"Damn, that woman drives me nuts!"  
  
Um, Mike? You're talking to yourself. Out loud. If the good doctor saw you like this, she'd want to see you more often than just twice a year. You know that even though it's been what? 3 years since you've been Sydney's handler, the Agency is still leery of your relationship with her. Thank God for Sydney. If she weren't as successful an agent as she is, you'd be toast. But she gets results, and good ones, so the higher-ups leave you alone. Except for twice a year when you get to visit with the current in-house shrink. But you can rest easy, 'nother 6 months now. And at least Barnett is gone. She was good, she saw right through you. Nearly lost Sydney back then.  
  
Been pretty smooth sailing lately. Smooth as it gets in your line of work. If you could, you'd shadow her on some of her more difficult missions. That's nothing more than crazy talk, though and you know it. Dr. Fleisher would have a field day with that one. Hey, watch the pedestrians! Just because you're late for your meeting with Syd is no reason to run down helpless, ok jaywalking, civilians.  
  
You'd like to ask Sydney a million questions, not including the ones you'll actually ask, the work-related ones specific to her mission.  
  
What you'd really like to ask her is if she's ok? Really ok?  
  
Is she getting enough rest? Because she's been looking a little tired lately. And Sydney shouldn't be so tired, not for the reasons that she is. She should be tired from staying up all night finishing papers or days at the beach with friends or climbing mountains. Not from having to save the world. Again.  
  
You'd *really* like to ask if she'd like to come over and watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy on DVD? You could spend the day curled up on the couch together…  
  
Now Mike, they'll be none of that. There is no That with you and Sydney. At least not now, not yet. Besides, you won't ask her any of those because she'll just lie for the first two and say she's fine and then look at you strangely for the last one because she'd know you really have gone off the deep end.  
  
So you don't say anything out of the ordinary when you finally get there. She's already waiting when you arrive, just a little bit late, thanks to some, um, shall we say, fancy driving. Standard greetings all around, friendly, but with something under the surface, simmering, you can feel it.  
  
You've been feeling it for a while now. You guys certainly have the dance down pat. Light chit chat when you have your more private meetings. Hints of what's going on in her life. You do a lot of listening, you do that pretty well, you know? You even let slip a few things about what's going on in your own life. Not too much, can't be getting too attached, too familiar with your agent. Yeah, Mike, keep telling yourself that. You can't help but tease her every once in a while. Treat her like a friend, not a fellow agent. Like last month when she tried to subtly quiz you about your new tie. She was convinced it meant a new girlfriend in your life. You enjoyed her not-quite-hidden jealousy far too much and couldn't bring yourself to tell her it was a gift from your mom. You just let her keep quizzing you, content to say nothing. You do that a lot. Let her pour her heart out about the things she can't tell anyone else. Let her fill the silence you're afraid you'd fill with words that could get you both fired. Or killed. In her case, same thing.  
  
You try to keep your mind on business, but it's harder than usual today. Sydney's across the room, next to some crates and she's both too far away and much too close. And as always, much too beautiful. She suffers the jet lag from her Tibet trip very well, but still looks like she could use a vacation. From SD-6, from the CIA and yes, from you. A thought that saddens you because you don't want to be one of the reasons she needs to get away, you want to be the one going with her. Just out seeing the sites. London or Rome or, damn it all to hell, Omaha. Do they even have sights in Omaha? They must. A diner off the highway in Omaha would do. Where you could sit together eating pie, not at separate tables, not pretending to be strangers, but sharing in conversation and laughter and yes, even pie, now that would be, as they say in those Visa commercials, priceless.  
  
But ever the professional, you carry on. It's in your blood after all. You're trying to finish the meeting, but Sydney's got this odd look on her face.  
  
"Sydney, you ok?", you ask worriedly. Hey wait, you weren't going to ask that question. You know she'll say fine.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry", she says, looking a little embarrassed at being caught… daydreaming?  
  
Now you're wondering what, or who, she's daydreaming about. But you don't even have time to wonder if you should be jealous when she starts walking towards you. Purposefully. With a gleam in her eye which you can only hope means what you think it means, but it really can't mean what you think it means because that's dangerous. Oh, boy. Make that Dangerous. But so is Sydney. She could kill a man with her bare hands. Break his heart with a smile. Break your heart with a kiss.  
  
And speaking of kisses… In an instant that takes forever, Sydney crosses the room and gently pulls you down into a kiss that startles you. But that shock is gone almost before it starts. Passion takes over, hunger long ignored, purposefully pushed to the back of your mind. Not anymore. It's a kiss that has to last, you know this can't happen again. At least not anytime soon. But, like a starving man suddenly set upon a feast, you try to make the most of it. Get in a few more kisses before you know she's going to pull away. Soft, gentle kisses, that say more than words. Which is good, since words, at least coherent ones, are probably not forthcoming.  
  
She pulls away and you watch her move back towards the crates she was leaning against. She moves without taking her eyes off you. You can see the mood pass like the clouds pass over the sun. She's your sun. And the CIA, they're the clouds. Big, black, threatening storm clouds. They have rules against this sort of thing. Big rules. In bold letters. You can't do this. Not now at least.  
  
"I'm sorry…" she says, a bit embarrassed, but not very heartfelt you think.  
  
"Sydney, we can't…" can't what? Can't stop there? Go ahead, say it. Wouldn't you love to see her reaction? She'd think you were totally nuts. But you keep your wits about you, although it's hard. Harder than it should be.  
  
"I know, I just.. I just… I'm sorry. Won't happen again", she finishes and you wonder if that's it? She's really not going to explain herself? You've got questions just tripping over themselves in your brain and your heart, but after clearing your throat, if not your mind, you actually manage to force out a business-related one. She straightens and you can see her bring forth the Agent and put away the Temptress and the moment is over. Like it never happened.  
  
Except you know it did. And it can't be put away forever. There's one question begging to be asked. You have to force yourself not to ask it. Yet. But someday, you know with certainty, you'll find out the answer.  
  
What kind of pie does she like?  
  
End 


End file.
